A Force of Habit
by Anguish of My Love
Summary: DISCONTINUED. This is the only time of the day Yang lets himself watch his sister. Yin/Yang.
1. Yang: Habitually, Certainly

Disclaimer: I mean _come on_, I don't even _watch_ Yin Yang Yo!

**It would be better if you just read this. I think the other chapters are pretty bad and this is good enough to stay as a oneshot anyhow.**

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Yang opens the door and peeks in the room, out of habit more than anything. His feet shuffle in the ground and he finds the chair and puts it in its fixed position.

Yin is sleeping with her mouth closed, turned to the side, and her one hand curled up on her pillow. It is how she always sleeps. Yang watches almost dejectedly, his hands clasped tightly on his lap. He often wonders what she dreams about. Her lips twitch up and he stops his train of thought.

It is the only time of the day he ever lets himself watch his sister. His hands play with the ends of his shirt just as they do every night, and his eyes trail on her and her bed robotically, he's almost memorized the wrinkles on her bed, they change every night, but he notices one or two that are exactly the same. He doesn't know why, but he finds it still finds it _hard_ looking at her now, he's almost certain she'll open her eyes and look at him.

Looking at him with those big, bright blue eyes (he almost laughs at the unnecessary alliteration). He's never really looked at them before (thank god Yin's never noticed, or if she had, she's never mentioned), only ever really meeting it twice or thrice. He admits he's afraid to stare in them, they give him unnecessary churns in the stomach.

(It's easier to admit he's scared, so that's always the farthest he's thought, any further and he's even more afraid he might not be able to come back.)

He sighs and looks up, trying hard to watch Yin as long as he could. He hates himself for being a coward, but he never tries to go beyond that. There's a little voice in his head that says he might do something too far. It also says this is _wrong_, but he's already gone far enough and he really can't stop himself now anyway.

He stares at Yin hardly, her hand twitches, and something in his heart jumps. He adjusts his arms so that his elbows are on his thighs and his hands are limping in the gap of his legs, except they're not limp more than they're clenched. There's something at the back of his throat and he wonders if he should force it out. But then, he doesn't want to ruin this peaceful air (though, honestly, it was just as heavy, too).

Yang glances at her sister's lips for half a second, firmly shut against each other. He vaguely wonders when she stopped murmuring, back before, Yang used to hear her talk in her sleep and tease and blackmail her when she woke up.

But then, they received separate rooms, hers being the one they shared, and he doesn't catch her in her sleep anymore, she's always the first one up, and he'd find it weird to go to her room just to hear what she was murmuring in the late nights.

Looking back, he realizes he doesn't quite recall when he started this ritual. He remembers waking up in the middle of the night—or was he even asleep then?—and wandering about to try to get himself sleepy enough. He remembers reaching her door (though he doesn't know why, or how) and opening it to at _least_ get some fun out of his restless night. But then, he finds her sleeping calming, and he ends up grabbing a chair and puling it near the bed (and it always somehow ends up in the exact same spot). And then he finds himself doing it whenever he finds it hard to fall asleep, he's not even aware he's starting to do it daily, until it's too late to stop.

Then he wonders if that's when he started liking her. He doesn't know _when_ he started having these…feelings…for her, from where he stands, it's somehow always been there, like how you've always been this tall, though you remember being shorter before.

He chuckles at the example. But then he tenses when he hears the vibrations from the walls of the room. He's not really scared of finding her awake, (which he realized was contradictory to a while ago but then he remembers) she never wakes up after all the times he's been in her room at night. She never really moves a lot, either. He almost envies her lack of sleeping problems. (But then, if he's never had one, then wouldn't that mean he's never started watching her sleep?)

Yin makes a soft sound from the back of her throat and Yang wants to smile, but then he can't, not really, so he just contents himself to taking all of her in. He realizes it's not a lot when he really watches her sleep, half the time, he muses in his thoughts and memories, and hearing her light breathing calms him to a state of immobility. Maybe it's because he doesn't really reflect a lot during the day, or it could be because watching her is still uncomfortable (he doesn't really know, he doesn't really care, he's only repeating himself anyway).

He looks at the clock and it registers that he's been here long enough, he really should go, he'll do this again tomorrow, anyhow. He stands up and tries to make his way to the door but ends up by her, he finds himself doing this every night, but even then, he's still mildly surprised that his feet aren't listening to him again.

Nearer to her, he notices the slight movement of her chest and the smallest and softest smile on her face. His hand twitches. Years of doing Woo Foo dulled her fuchsia hair into a modest gray pink color. He almost wonders if her fur is just as bristly as his is.

When he realizes what he's doing, he yanks his arm back to him, more forcefully than he initially thought necessary. He looks at his hand, nearly glaring at it, and scolds himself for even trying to touch her. He's never done so before, why should he start now?

He walks to the door and places the chair back in its original position, both harshly and doubtingly. He heads out the door before sighing heavily and almost dragging himself to his own room. Maybe tomorrow would go more smoothly than tonight.

(It would be much later when Yin wakes up wondering why she did, she's never had before, and why she feels disappointed. And even when it's already morning and she's out training, the disappointment doesn't fully leave her until Yang calls her for breakfast with that boyish proud smile.)

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Dum dum duuummm. This was fun doing :3, I liked writing it, maybe this'll turn out better than the other stories I wrote, atleast the ones that I did continuously and for 1-4 hours. I've never been so good with doing stories without really stopping, never gives me enough time to think things through and often rushing and making it look slightly weird.

Vignette-ish, I think. I'm not sure. I'm not quite sure what a vignette is, exactly. Though I think I came quite close. Ah well.

Anywho, I'm not sure if Yin and Yang were OOC here, I don't really watch the series, haven't read a single story about them either, so I'm left with the basics (I think) and trying to keep them in character though making a little difference in it. Nyew.


	2. Yin: Dread

Yin blinks. But as soon as she realizes what she's doing she shuts her eyes as swiftly as she opened them.

A week. It had been, more or otherwise, roughly a week since she felt that uncomfortable churning in her stomach.

She had shrugged it off after a while. The disappointment may had caught her off guard, and it may had been-and it still is-somewhat unsettling, it was still only just out of the blue. And if she couldn't find a reason for it, she would rather not think about it. It wasn't anything like the distressful sense of foreboding, and it was something so easily discarded.

The churning came back though, but it was different this time.

It was night, late at night, and there was something wrong in the air. She woke up, and, now, she regretted doing so. She was just thankful the other hadn't noticed. She didn't want confrontation, she didn't really want to know, and maybe it would be easier this way. She could ignore it, or at the least, ignore most of it.

She heard the scraping of her-or maybe not-chair and she willed herself not to flinch or tense. She wished, for once, to not be so keen, because she could almost _feel_ the warmth going to her. The churning grew worse with dread.

The warmth is as close as ever and she hopes the other occupant doesn't notice her fur bristled and standing up. Her body shivers slightly (which the other shrugs as a subconscious reaction to the cold) and she tries even harder to appear asleep, but then she suddenly stiffens.

This time, the warmth really is on her skin and she can tell the touch is hesitant, nervous, and, if she wasn't so scared, she would have slapped it away. The hand flutters on her fur, telling her how wary and reluctant the invader was to do be doing this. She realizes that this might be the first time he's done this, she's not sure if she's relieved of this fact or not.

And then he leaves, but she holds her breath until it is exactly five seconds since the door shuts close. She covers her eyes with her arm and shudders.

It had always been so easy to read her twin, he had always been the obnoxious, over-confident and sometimes sweet and overprotective brother. She could read every action and every response, and could very well predict what they would be. And this...wasn't in the mix.

She bit her tongue. Yang's actions had been a stretch from his rare affectionate side. Far too big of a stretch.

She wasn't trying to assume, she wasn't going to try assuming, but it (bloody, damn, hell) bothered her.

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Well, lookie here, I decided to continue this story! :3 Since people liked this, and one even said that maybe I should continue this. Of course, plot bunnies love me. They love me so much they just HAVE to come in by packs.

I have to tell you though, I'm gonna be slow on this. I already have a sort of plan on what will happen in each chapter and I'm sure I can write it fast enough. Can't though. School ya know, that and I'm so very easily distracted. Hope you liked this chapter though ;) Sorry if I disappoint, I'll try better on the next one.


	3. Yang: Apprehension

Yang shuffled against the gaze he almost knew was pointed at him. He did a 180° and successfully sent the splinters flying with his kick. His habit came in and he was thankful he had his straw to nibble on. He threw another kick and swung, the wood completely broken to pieces.

A swirling sound could be heard, and after, the breaking of something—something hard (he didn't know what, exactly) and an almost inaudible curse.

He turned to the source to find Yin looking at the destroyed mannequin that was a cross from a glare and something of indifference. She sighed and she looked like she almost sagged in pensiveness. She turned to his direction and, well, maybe would have walked towards the door—which was conveniently placed behind him—if she hadn't noticed him.

He can tell the apprehension his sisters is trying to hide so well. She bites her lip when he has the instinct to possibly gnaw at his straw until it breaks. Yo—who wasn't here right now—wouldn't have seen the well-masked disturbance practically _radiating_—at least to him—from the girl, but he knows better. Being the pinkette's twin and closest friend—which both of them may or may not usually beg to differ—does that to you.

Yang catches the quick movement of Yin looking away for less than half a second and he has to wonder what it is that makes her so anxious around him. He bends down to pick up the pieces of wood on the floor. There's something iffy about her behavior and he racks his brain, trying to remember something, anything, that may had provoked her.

She walks—just the tinniest bit stiffly—then, to the door before going out and looking for another mannequin to practice her combat skills (and _not_ her mystical ones, she adds stingingly). He goes to picking up the rest of the wood and—inconveniently—accidently wounds himself with a particularly sharp one.

He hisses and stands up, licking his middle finger for a moment, before deciding to get a broom and make this easier. He can hear the rustle of movement and, habitually, imagines Yin using her mystic powers to carry the doll to the training area again. He grabs the broom and sweeps up the ground.

She knows something, he figures, but he doesn't know _what_ it is, exactly. He has this connection with Yin where both of them can tell what the other is thinking or feeling. But it's not perfect, and there are something things he can't tell from Yin and other things she can't figure out from him.

Like how he feels.

He shakes his head and bites down on the plant in his mouth (It's already almost broken, he'll need to find a new one.). He doesn't like thinking such pressing thoughts during the day, it's disturbing him, and, sooner or later, someone might pick up on the signals he's giving off if he starts.

He hears the padded movements of his sister going here and his stomach drops in something akin to slight fear. But, with a shake of the head, he discards the thoughts and doesn't look up when Yin enters the room, already knowing his sister wouldn't want to look at him right now.

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I'm trying to do this as fast as I can. Because, ya know, school's a bitch. And damn, am I easily distracted. I'm going to try to keep my updates faster than a month, so I hope I finish them before December, or, at the least, before the year ends.

Sorry if nothing's happening here. I tell you, not a lot's gonna happen in the story. It's all going to mostly be thoughts and feelings, cause I'm totally creative and exciting that way ;P.


	4. Yin: Drifting Apart

OHMAGAWD, I finally came back 8D After, like…three months… XD I'm _sososososo_ sorry, I'm such an awful updater.

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"Maybe I should just go..."

Yin doesn't even bother saying goodbye or looking back to her group of friends. Yang is here, and he still unsettles her, even after so long already (or maybe not long enough, if she still can't take it looking at him). It's been a month, maybe, when she first woke up to him beside her bed. And she knows he's always there every night, because the thought of her brother watching her sleep has given her enough unease to have troubles sleeping.

She figures it's fine now, her body's learned to adapt to her unusual sleeping periods.

But what throws her off the most is how, even now, she still hasn't done anything. Her condensing musings never evolved into actual protests and, as far as her brother knows, Yin is still as oblivious to this as she had been a month back.

It's slightly funny, she muses. The slight disgust and entire _wrongness_ is still there and, really, she's gone so far as actually try to make him stop. But then he touches her (it's become a sort of habit to him now, she figures), and the words die down and she's struggling for breath and sentences as her mind goes in overdrive and chantsscreamshisses, _it's wrong-sowrong-sohorribblywrong-wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong._

Maybe it's pity, she considers. Maybe it's acquiescence, maybe it's sympathy. Maybe it's mercy (which is funny, Yin snorts). And then she decides she's too prideful to tell him off (though, why, or how, she doesn't quite know yet).

She stops when she realizes she's been walking for a good half hour now. She looks around and notes that this part of the city is familiar, but not one she's accustomed to. She sees a retail store or three and a bakery store nearby. There's even an arcade a block away, and Yin wonders if Yang has ever gone there before.

She starts when she remembers Yang had stopped going to arcades a decent long back. He's not all too much into videogames, she recalls suddenly, he seems to like physical more now. And she figures he's into martial arts now. There's something akin to ache when she realizes how far apart they are now.

It isn't anything like them completely shutting each other off. But they used to be so close, they could have easily called each other best friends (but she figures that's not exactly the right term to use). And now they're…well, Yin didn't actually have a term for what they are now. They drifted apart, is the best way to put it, but there's…_something else_ in the picture.

And now Yin finds out of the late nights with Yang and she's even more withdrawn.

She remembers how she had, at the least, understood her brother's actions before all that. But now everything he does is out of the map. But maybe it was her, maybe she was screwing with her mind because every little thing she was sure of him suddenly turned around.

She hates this. She hates the distance between the two siblings. She hates the distance solidified when she woke up late at night and found Yang watching her sleep. She hates the distance _she_ made because she's too pent up, too cowardly to try anything.

And then it would be much later, just before dinner, when Yang walks in on her, near the kitchen, and he grins at her. And Yin suddenly glares and her brother is taken aback. And then she realizes how awful of an actor he was when he tries to mask the upset with a roll of the eyes.

She bites the inside of her lip in regret. She feels angry for some reason, she feels angry, and confused, and the littlest bit of distressed. She's not getting better at this and she feels the need to blame her brother for this.

But she sighs and hurries to her brother. And a guiltied and slightly hesitant (but he doesn't notice, and she only notes the emotion at the back of her mind) apology and a quick _I just had a bad day_ is enough to brighten Yang's smile.

Yang shouldn't be this affected, she reasons to herself. This isn't like him, this isn't like any _boy_. But she figures her brother isn't _like_ the other boys and she wonders if he's noticed how much he reacts. She sighs and leaves the room. Whatever, she tells herself, _whatever_.

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Yang and Yin are so pathetic it almost hurts. Is this OOC? I think it's OOC. Do you know how to fix this? Because I need suggestions to make them more IC than this. Ironically, I listened to _Face Down_ and _I Found You_ while doing the before end of this chapter.

I'm sososo sorry again


	5. Yang: Routine Based

Yang sighs, feeling disoriented. He still doesn't quite get his feelings right now. Yin's reactions to him affect him far more than they should. What unsettles him even more is how natural it feels. He doesn't like it, he feels like a girl.

He sighs again and leans on the bed mattress.

He knows he shouldn't feels so weird having these emotions, but he's never had to deal with this in the wake, and it's always been easier when it's just him and an asleep Yin late at night. It's hard because, one way or another, his nightly ritual has become part of his system, and what's happening is nothing short of the disparity. And, for all that is the blue rabbit, he likes the accustomary.

This…this is getting out of hand. He knows he may as well just accept it, whether forcefully or otherwise, but it's getting deeper and it's…wrong…and stupid…and all that other crap one can associate with his current state. He rubs the half of his face with his right paw. He realizes he's getting tired easily, and yet it's as if his body—or heart, or mind, or whatever else is forcing this on him—doesn't want him to rest and it's all just getting infuriating.

He glances at the window and notices that the moon is almost at its place when Yang decides to go to Yin's room. He pulls himself up. His life is a routine.

He stays there, sitting on his bed, before his feet decide that it's time and pull him to the room a couple paces away. He opens the door without so much as a creak. He doesn't like change.

The chair is dragged and everything is silent, is still, and the leaves rustle and Yang dully notes it's almost Autumn. He's not ready for the shift he knows is bound to happen.

And then Yin breathes listlessly into her pillow and Yang's eyes flicker to the slight spike of her hair. Maybe he's imagining things, but she looks as stressed as he feels, which is a lot less than what he's phrasing out, but it counts as something, there's still the significance.

Maybe if…maybe if he stopped... Maybe if he tried change. Maybe something will happen. Maybe he'll stop worrying. Maybe it'll get better.

Maybe he'll move on.

He thinks it's unlikely because, for all the pride and sassiness she has, Yang's…(he can't say it, not now, maybe not for a while)…for her, arrogant cheekiness and all that.

But it's a step, he figures. It's a step he has to take, if he wants himself to get better.

And then it's decided. Yang wants to stop at this madness and feel normal again, so he will. He will stop this madness.

* * *

Really, Yang, what are you trying to get yourself into? _Gawd_, it's almost like you're running away, but I guess not. Not entirely the bravest route you could take (not quite sure of it's effectivity in your part yet) but, eh, whatever, you're Yang. I'll forgive you.

SO. I totally ignored my previous end note and decided to got to hell with it anyway. Atleast I hope this clears a bit of his OOCness and all in the last chapter. Or, you know, not.

Yay! Double update for you in apology.

This chapter is so unbelievably short it's hard to grasp that such a huge change is caused in here.


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